I am living in Belgium. Study at the Royal Academy of Arts.
The artist writes. The imperious hand envelops the universe with smoke. The cycle is unimaginable to mow, the colors are a bright river.
I was also an artist once, at least it was difficult to believe in it. I bought it, without feeling the souls, brushes, paints and pencils in them. A jar of water. Paper sheet. I revive the paint with a wet brush, and the strip lies on the sheet, separating heaven from the sea. I painted striped tigers, painted hairy pirates. Pipe without smoke, there were no guns without fire at that time.